


Proper Motivation

by remedialpotions



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Half-Blood Prince, also they banter a lot, fluffy af, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 08:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remedialpotions/pseuds/remedialpotions
Summary: Ron’s not actually lazy at all.Half-Blood Prince missing moment. Winner of the Sloth category for the 2018 Seven Deadly Sins Fest on Tumblr.





	Proper Motivation

“I’m an  _ invalid _ , Hermione.”

“An invalid? Do you even know what that means?”

“Yes!” Ron made a big show of lifting one long, scarred arm about half an inch from the table, as though to grab for a textbook, and then let it drop with a thud. “See? I’m weak.”

Hermione peered over the top of an impossibly thick book, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at him.”You walked all the way down here,” she said. “How exactly did you manage that, if you’re so feeble?”

“Sheer force of will,” said Ron. He folded his arms on the wooden table before him and rested his chin upon them, gazing up at her, watching her eyes flit back and forth as she read. “Plus, I didn’t want to stay in the common room.”

And he’d never admit it to her, but he actually liked this section of the library, with its tall shelves of well-worn tomes, the crescent moon shining in on them from a bay window at the end of the aisle, the little square table that she had covered with textbooks. They were alone here, tucked into an obscure corner that he knew she had favored ever since their very first year. With her, he could appreciate the quiet.

“Yeah, why  _ have  _ you come to the library on a Saturday night?” asked Hermione. “I know it’s not to do homework.”

“It is, actually - well, no, if I’m honest it’s to get your help with my homework.” He paused while she rolled her eyes, shaking her head in exasperation, “But also - Lavender’s in there, and it’s just awkward.”

“But she split up with you,” said Hermione with the reasonable air of someone who clearly had never been loudly and dramatically dumped in front of the entire Gryffindor student population, “that was weeks ago now, you’re still avoiding her?”

“That’s sort of why I’m avoiding her,” he replied, tilting his head so that his cheek laid on his arm. “I was a bit of a rubbishy boyfriend to her, wasn’t I?”

“I-” She pulled her lips between her teeth. “I really wouldn’t know.”

“Right.” Right, because he had completely alienated her for months, had made one mistake in a fit of rage and jealousy and self-loathing and then hadn’t managed to course-correct, and then the mistake had become bigger than him, had become its own entity that had only just recently been squashed. “Well - at least I’ll be better at it for - er - the next person.”

Hermione tilted her head just the slightest bit at him, as though trying to parse out the hidden meaning in his words. 

“The next person?” she repeated, her voice brittle.

Oh, Merlin. She had figured it out, hadn’t she, that he was talking about her. Naturally she would have already deemed him deluded for even considering that he might be worthy of her - why could he never get himself to think before he spoke? 

“Er - yeah-“ He cleared his throat; he could still salvage this. “Anyway, I thought I’d escape. And I really do need your help.”

“With what, exactly?”

“All of it!” he exclaimed. “There’s so much work, and - and I’ve only just been released from hospital-”

“It’s been two months-”

“And I’ve got to rest up.”

She stared at him, mouth slightly agape, as though unable to fathom him at all. Admittedly, he was not unfamiliar with this particular reaction from her.

“Haven’t you got a Quidditch match next week?”

“Exactly. I’ve got to save my strength for the important stuff.”

Hermione carefully folded down the corner of a page in her book (which stunned Ron, a bit - the book wasn’t even  _ hers _ ) and closed the text completely, her brown eyes boring into him.

“I’m not going to do your homework for you,” she stated flatly. “If you have questions, I’ll help you find the answers, but I’m not doing it for you.”

“All right,” he said, mock resignation in his voice. “Okay. If you want me to not be able to take NEWTs with the rest of our class next year, I guess that’s fine, I’ll just have to take classes with my little sister-”

“Your sister who actually studies,” Hermione interrupted, “and don’t pretend like it’ll be my fault if you fail.”

“You’d never let me fail.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she challenged, eyes ablaze, and Ron had to bite back a smile: he loved igniting this spark in her, and he suspected, somehow, that he was the only person who was capable of doing so. “Just watch and see.”

“Okay,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “Go on, then. As you were.”

“Fine.” 

She picked up another book off the wobbly stack in front of her, this one titled  _ Advanced Numerology and Gramatica _ , and opened it up. Ron knew better than to think she was actually reading, but he thought he’d let the ruse continue, if only because it was an excuse to watch her do so. Her cheeks had flushed with irritation at him (which would pass, he was sure), and she kept trying to tuck an unruly curl behind her ear, and her long, dark lashes rested against the smattering of freckles on her cheeks as her gaze moved toward the bottom of the page. It never ceased to amaze him how much he didn’t tire of this, how much he relished just existing with her, and not for the first time - not for the hundredth time - he wished he could reverse time, rewind six months and do everything differently. 

But since he couldn’t, this was about all he had, and he was going to shine it on as long as possible.

“You know,” said Hermione quietly, making him pick up his head to look at her. “You’re really smart, Ron, I know you are. You got seven OWLs last year, you’re beyond brilliant at chess - I know you’re not actually lazy when it comes to the things you care about. You know that I’ll help you if you actually need it, but… I don’t think you do.”

But if he did it - if he actually just picked up a quill and buckled down - then he might lose all of this. He wouldn’t be able to swing by the library just to pester her, watch the concentration encompass her face as she studied, and he didn’t want to risk these quiet, remarkable moments in their newly-repaired friendship. 

“Oh, but I do,” he replied, attempting to infuse some lightness back into the room. “I’m not really meant to strain myself just yet. I’m still in recovery, you know,” he added with a smirk, hoping to coax a smile out of her, “as a result of the time that I nearly  _ died _ -“

“Stop it,” snapped Hermione suddenly, her voice razor-sharp. “Stop saying that.”

Ron recoiled, momentarily stupefied, and then swallowed. “Okay, okay, fine,” he said, “I’ll do my homework, I’ll figure it out, forget I said anything.”

“No,” she replied, and now she had switched from harsh anger to anguish, “I mean, stop treating it like it’s a joke. You did almost die, and - and if Harry hadn’t found that bezoar - I think about what could have happened all the time. You don’t know how terrified everyone was, because you woke up and you were fine, and everything was okay, but I really, I thought - I thought-“ Her eyes shone now, reflecting the flickering lantern in a nearby corner, and Ron had to actively fight the impulse to hug her, to wrap her in his arms and stroke her hair and never stop. “It’s really not funny at all.”

Sometimes he forgot - because he had been feeling like such a worthless prat in the weeks leading up to it - that his poisoning had affected people other than him. But his brothers had been waiting in Hogsmeade for him with a birthday gift, and his parents had shown up at the school the second they’d received the news, and even Hermione had sat vigil at his bedside. And looking at her now, with pain etched into her face, he understood truly just how certain she had been that she had lost him.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, considering placing his hand over hers, then thinking better of it. “I won't do it again.”

“Thank you.”

“And you’re right, I probably don’t need help with my work, but - I like working on it with you,” he confessed, watching the words register in her eyes. “And not because you know all the answers. It’s just something we’ve always done, ever since we became friends… and I don’t want that to go away.”

“Oh.” The corners of her mouth twitched up just slightly. “Well - we’ve got a Transfiguration essay due on Monday, we can work on that. Have you started it? Have you got your book?”

“Oh, I’ve got nothing,” he chortled, face deepening to crimson. “I didn’t even bring my rucksack here.”

Her jaw dropped, and he ducked as she whipped her quill at him. “So you’ve just come here to annoy me, then?”

“ _ Annoy _ is a strong word - I see it more as entertaining you-“

Her foot connected forcefully with his shin under the table, and he burst out laughing. 

“You are insufferable, Ron, honestly-“ 

But behind her stern exterior, he could see she was starting to crack, and when their eyes met she lost it, dissolving into her own peals of laughter, nose crinkling. Merlin, he loved making her laugh, it was worth anything just to get this reaction from her. 

“All right, tell you what,” he said when they’d calmed, “let me run back upstairs and get my things, and we can do that essay.”

“You’re going to go all the way up to Gryffindor Tower from here? I thought you were too frail for such exertion,” she teased, grinning widely at him.

“Nah,” he shrugged as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be back in a minute, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

“All right, hurry up.” She was going to kill him with that smile, he was sure of it. “We’ve got a lot to do.”

He bolted up the staircase, taking all the steps two at a time.


End file.
